I'm walking down a sidewalk in a part of town I've never seen, in a town I've never seen, in a country I've never seen, on a planet I've never seen.
Coincidentally, this place has rats too. The rats gnaw at my shoes to get to my succulent toes. Mosquitos as big as large mosquitos swarm my head and go to work.
The pocketknife, which I was demonstrating on one of Old Man Johnson's apple trees when Old Man Johnson came out of nowhere and I had to suddenly stick it in my pocket unfolded, is unfolded in my pocket and sticking me in the testicles.
Crazy coked-up celebrities run in my direction and fire their various handguns, shotguns and rifles at me with a surprising rate of success.
The head god of each religion known to Earth demands a sacrifice of me. Therefore, I'm split into a million pieces and burned or eaten or crucified or launched into the sun or suicide bombed or drowned or killed with kindness.
All of my visions have come true. Well, I've only had one before this one. I predicted that I would be slaughtered by a bunch of gods. And this new vision seems to confirm that.
Listen to This: The Race To Ban Abortion
2 years ago
2 comments:
Fucking sweet. Jung would have a field day with that (if he weren't dead and rotten). Freud wouldn't get past the knife in the testes part..
BTW, being eaten is the only way to go if you you are to be sacrificed if given any choice in the matter.
Carry on.
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